


The Lives Of Men Like Us

by NothingRiddikulus



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: AU, Childhood Sweethearts, M/M, Way of Kings spoilers, Words of Radiance spoilers, i mean a lot of those things are eventual but i'll just tag them now to be safe, takes place during the Way Of Kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 09:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11483403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingRiddikulus/pseuds/NothingRiddikulus
Summary: Renarin was eleven again, waiting for his next trip to Hearthstone, his next chance to see Kaladin.He was fifteen, running away to join the army with Kal and Tien, brimming with rage and ready to protect them.He was sixteen, being dragged home kicking and screaming.He was nineteen, finally reuniting with Kal after years of wasted time.An AU in which Renarin, a distant relative of Laral's, was childhood sweethearts with Kaladin. They reunite during the events of The Way Of Kings.





	1. Prologue

The bridgemen barracks stank. This was the first thing Renarin noticed. They stank like sweat and blood and urine and general uncleanliness. He didn’t like to think of Kal being here but… he would prefer that to another dead end. How many times now had he wandered to unsavoury, out of the way, places, chasing after a whisper of a man named ‘Stormblessed’? How many times had he found the wrong man waiting for him? He’d thought it an uncommon nickname, but it turned out soldiers were even more superstitious that he’d realised. Any man these days who did so much as lift a spear properly could be called ‘Stormblessed’, it seemed. True, some of the men he’d found had accomplished daring feats, and the majority were at least respectable, but none of them had done what Kal had. None of them were him.

_Renarin was a child again, visiting Hearthstone for the very first time. He had ventured out of the Kholinar princedom before, of course, but this town was the most remote he’d visited. His father was quick to remind him that Brightlord Wistiow was a relative of his, albeit a distant one, and that he and his daughter Laral should be respected. He stepped out of the carriage. ‘Look Renarin’, whispered his mother, pointing to a darkeyed man with tired eyes. ‘That’s the town’s surgeon. He’s got spectacles just like you, see?’ Renarin reached up to touch the strange, round, glass circles on his own face. He had been given them only last month, and they felt like intruders where they leant on his nose and ears. He attempted a weak smile._

Looking around, Renarin found a tired looking bridge crew walking back from the direction of the chasms. They were complaining loudly about something called ‘chasm duty’. He jogged over to them. A quick survey of their faces revealed Kaladin was not among them. Oh well. They could still help.

‘Hello’ he said. One of the Bridgemen spat at the ground near his feet. 

‘Storm off’ he told Renarin.

‘I would, but first I require your help finding someone important to me’. They looked at him blankly. Renarin sighed, clenched his fists, and died a little inside. ‘I, Renarin Kholin, son to Dalinar Kholin and second in line to the Kholinar princedom, require your assistance.’ The smelly Bridgemen all curled their lips simultaneously in annoyance.

‘what do you want to know?’ asked a broad shouldered makabaki man with a branded forehead. He seemed to be, not a leader exactly, but the man everyone else obeyed because they might as well obey someone. It was probably because he was so big.

‘There is a man among the bridgecrews known as ‘Stormblessed’, correct?’

‘Yeah’

‘Do you know his first name?’

‘Nah’

‘Well then. Do you know, ah, what bridgecrew he’s from?’

‘Uh… four, I reckon.’

‘And where is bridgecrew four right now?’

‘probably bridge duty, if they’re not around here.’ The makabaki man sighed at Renarin’s blank face. ‘which means he’s carrying Lighteyes over chasms. That or dead.’

‘Oh. Thank you’ Renarin turned to leave.

‘Hey gancho, wait a minute would you!’ A herdazian man waved his arms at Renarin. 

‘…yes?’

‘I just thought of something! See, a cousin of mine’s in bridge four and… would the man you’re looking for go by the name of Kaladin?’

_On the second day of the trip, Brightlord Wistiow grew ill briefly. The surgeon came to see him, and brought his son. The boy was Renarin’s age apparently, and had thick black curly hair and a stern expression obviously copied from his father’s. He looked interesting. Adolin noticed Renarin staring and grinned. ‘My brother wants to speak to you!’ he yelled in the boy’s direction, gesturing for him to come closer. Before Renarin could do anything to stop it, the boy walked over._   
_‘hello’ he said to Renarin._

_‘I, uh, hello.’_

_‘You’re Dalinar Kholin’s son, right?’ the boy seemed excited by this for some reason._

_‘yes. You’re the surgeon’s son’_

_‘mmhmm’. He nodded. ‘what’s your name?’_

_‘Renarin. What’s yours?’_

_‘I’m, uh, Kal. It’s short for Kaladin.’_

‘Yes!’ Renarin cried. ‘yes he’s... that’s him.’ He sighed in relief and in pure joy. Kaladin. At last, Kaladin. After all this searching, Kaladin. In the distance, bridges began to appear, carried on the backs of men. A surge of emotion rose in Renarin’s chest. 

_Renarin was climbing rocks with Laral and her friends. Adolin was training today, so Renarin couldn’t play with him. The boys Laral spent her days with were the surgeon’s sons, Tien and Kal. He liked Tien because he had given Renarin several interesting stones. He liked Kal… just because. Jumping from his current rock to the next, Renarin slid and crashed into Kal. He flinched, expecting anger, but Kal just looked at him funny and said: ‘Don’t try to jump so far. You’ll fall down.’ He leaped away._

_Renarin scowled. Looking around he found a rock much further from his one than the others had jumped. He waited until Kal was looking and hurled himself at it. He turned to look in Kal’s direction and stuck his tongue out. Laral burst out laughing._

_‘See Kal, that’s what happens if you underestimate my family!’_

_Kal glanced at Renarin, and smiled for a moment that felt like forever._

The Bridgemen grew closer. Leaving their bridge behind they raced to the barracks, carrying wounded men on their backs and in their arms. One in particular caught Renarin’s attention. A man with long, curly hair and a stern face. Kaladin.

_Renarin was eleven again, waiting for his next trip to Hearthstone, his next chance to see Kal and Tien and Laral._

_He was thirteen again, making excuses to visit Kal’s house, though by now he didn’t need them._

_He was fourteen again, with Kal’s hand in his own, skimming stones over Windrunner River and talking of a future together._

_He was fifteen, running away to join the army with Kal and Tien, brimming with rage and ready to protect them._

_He was sixteen, being dragged home kicking and screaming. Without Kal. Without Tien._

He was nineteen, finally reuniting with Kal after years of wasted time.


	2. Spectacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renarin meets Kaladin's friends. Lopen is Lopen

The Lopen had seen a lot of strange things in his time. The Captain, for instance, had started glowing recently, which was probably the strangest thing he had seen so far. Now for some reason, there was a young lighteyed man waiting for bridge four at the barracks. This in itself wasn’t strange; Matal was a lighteyes after all, although this man seemed from the quality of his clothes to be of much higher status than him. There were all sorts of reasons why a lighteyes might want to see the bridgecrew.

What was strange, was that this young man knew Kaladin. This was obvious since he was yelling the Captain’s name, and waving at him. What was even stranger was that _Kaladin_ knew _the young man._ This was obvious since Kal was yelling _his_ name. Apparently, he was called ‘Renarin’.

Kaladin gently laid a wounded man on the floor, and gestured for the other wounded to be placed beside him. He addressed Renarin with urgency in his voice: ‘can you clean some wounds for me and thread a few needles?’ 

‘yes, sir!’

‘Lopen has water.’ Kaladin told him. Now _this_ was surreal. The lighteyes was taking orders from Kaladin, and he seemed eager to do so. They worked together, passing equipment between each other, Renarin somehow always knowing what Kaladin needed next. They’d done this before, Lopen realised, many times. Noticing Renarin squinting at a needle, Kaladin leant over to him and slid a pair of spectacles out of the lighteyes’ breast pocket. ‘You do need these’, he informed Renarin, placing them over his ears. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture. Neither of them spoke again until they had finished bandaging up the bridgemen’s wounds.

They stood up. Renarin brushed some dirt off the front of his shirt and gulped awkwardly. Kaladin scratched the back of his head. They both stared at the ground. Then suddenly they were in each other’s arms, sobbing like children and whispering each other’s names. Lopen was ready to admit that he would never see anything more shocking that this until suddenly- His Captain cupped Renarin’s face gently in his hands and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

Bridge four went silent. Lopen was appalled. How could the bridgecrew not feel happy and proud for Kaladin when he was getting kisses from a pretty rich boy? Lopen cheered. ‘Well done, Captain!’ he shouted. The other Bridgemen soon caught on. Kaladin tore his face from Renarin’s immediately and scowled at them. 

‘So, Captain?’ smirked Teft, ‘are you going to introduce us?’

‘Oh’, said Kaladin, burying his head in Renarin’s hair. ‘This is Renarin’

‘You two are courting?’

‘we, uh…’ Kal looked to Renarin for help. ‘Technically he ended things when he was moved to a different squad back in- ‘

‘I’m un-ending things’ Said Renarin. ‘If, um. If that’s all right?’

‘That’s more than all right.’ He sighed gently as Renarin slipped a hand into his and began to rub his fingers over his knuckles. ‘it’s very _very_ all right’. 

This, perhaps, was the very strangest thing. The Captain was not usually as happy as this. It was odd to see him smiling and relaxed. It was at this point that Lopen decided he accepted Renarin. Not that he _liked_ him, yet, that came after, but Lopen knew instantly that anyone this important to Kaladin was important to him. Looking at the other bridgemen’s faces, it seemed to be a sentiment they shared.

Renarin looked at the sky. ‘I should be getting back soon.’ He said. ‘I have limited freedom as it is and everyone will be angry if I’m late, and possibly I’ll lose that freedom. And I want to come back here, and try and do what I can to make things better.’ He leant his head against Kaladin’s. ‘Would you tell me, before I go, how you ended up here?’

‘Do you not have stories of your own to tell first? You’ve stopped dying your hair, why’s that? You’re not pretending to be someone else anymore?’

‘I…’. Renarin frowned ‘There isn’t really anything to tell. I got found, that’s all. It was bound to happen. Please tell me what happened to you.’

‘It’s not a… _happy_ story’

‘I’ll be imagining horrible things’

‘You couldn’t imagine anything worse than what really happened’

‘There’s that sense of melodrama I love so much’. Renarin said dryly. ‘Well then, open up to me when you’re ready. I love you.’ He gave Kaladin a long kiss and departed.

Kaladin gave a deep and wistful sigh. He turned around, only to be confronted with a crowd of nosy bridgemen.

‘What’s he like Kaladin?’

‘how did you meet him?’

‘how’d a smelly slave like you get to be courting a prince?’

‘wait he’s a prince?!’ (This was Lopen, somehow in even more shock)

‘He is named _Renarin_ , your airsick lowlander.’ Replied Rock ‘And those streaks in his hair show the same foreign blood as Dalinar Kholin’s son, who is _also_ named Renarin. Even I know that and I am Unkalaki.’ He sighed again, but couldn’t hold back a smile. ‘Telling us everything would be appreciated Captain.’

‘I… all right.’ Kaladin sat down, and the bridgemen followed his lead, forming a circle around him. ‘when I was younger, the Kholin family spent holidays in my home town. Me and Ren got to know each other and, well, eventually we courted’. He furrowed his brow. ‘Or, uh, we _called_ it courting but we were fourteen and mainly just held hands and made each other jewellery out of twigs. Anyway, I uh… essentially got conscripted to the army and he came with me, against his father’s wishes. Dyed his hair black and joined up in the town next to ours about a week after I left. I think that might be why they don’t seem to be on such good terms nowadays. We were in the army together for a year or so, always hiding his identity, looking after each other…’ He smiled at some half-forgotten memory. ’He’s the reason I kept going after… everything, to be honest. And then he got transferred to another squad, and so did I, and he said things were over. Think he wanted it to hurt less for me, not that it worked.’

‘Then what?’

‘Huh? Um, then I met him again today.’

‘Well what’s he doing back with his family again?’

‘Storms, I don’t know! He got caught I suppose!’

‘You gonna tell him about the plan, gancho?’, piped up Lopen. ‘You gonna tell him we’re running?’

‘I… I don’t know. I hadn’t... hadn’t thought of that…’ It was clear from Kaladin’s face that he had.

‘We’re still leaving right, Captain?’ Moash asked accusingly.

‘Of course we’re storming leaving, none of you are staying in this place for any longer than you have to! I’ll figure something out.’  
‘I wouldn’t tell him if I were you. He’s not to be trusted if you ask me.’

‘…And why would you think that, Moash?’ Kaladin’s voice was suddenly very cold.

‘He’s a _lighteyes_. And he doesn’t act right.’

‘What was that, Moash?’

You… You heard me.’

‘Yes, I thought that too, but it sounded like you were insulting him. Surely you don’t want the bridgecrew fighting amongst ourselves, not when we’ve finally become a team?’

‘Uh… No?’

‘Well. Insulting the man I love would be a quick way to challenge me to a fight. I’ll ask you again: What was that, Moash?’

‘I…’ Moash grit his teeth. ‘I respect your opinion to trust the boy, but if he betrays us I get bragging rights.’

‘Fair enough. I respect that you don’t know him well enough to trust him yet. You’re a valued member of the bridgecrew Moash, and I’d hate to have to fight you, but I’ve heard far too many people insulting Renarin over the years and done not enough about it. And for your information, there’s nothing wrong with him, he’s perfect.’ He smiled optimistically. ‘No hard feelings, I hope.’


	3. Chasms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 'take your royal boyfriend to work' day.

Renarin arrived the next evening with a bag full of medical supplies. He handed them to Kaladin as if embarrassed, and apologised for there not being more. ‘It’s probably not a good idea for you to have too many material possessions’, he explained. ‘Everyone thinks of bridgemen as thieves, and I’ve heard people complain about you, Kal. I don’t want anyone to have a petty excuse to hurt you’.

‘Storms, don’t worry, anything you can get us helps. So far we’ve been selling _plants_ so… storms, Renarin. Thank you.’  
‘Oh it’s… no problem, really. Can we ah, talk?’

‘of course, but I don’t know if Matal will let you go on chasm duty with us.’ 

Renarin nodded, and chewed his lip anxiously. He stomped over to where Matal was sitting with his wife, took a deep breath and said: ‘I, Renarin Kholin, son to Dalinar Kholin and second in line to the Kholinar princedom, will be accompanying bridgecrew number four on chasm duty’

And so Renarin went to the chasms with bridge four, a slender clean blob standing out from above amongst the stockier dirtier ones.  
‘Right then’, said Kaladin, ‘you lot stay here doing what you, ah, usually do’ - Kaladin had still not told Renarin what the men were planning- ‘and Ren and I are going to go scavenging’

‘I doubt’, stated Teft with a hint of amusement in his voice, ‘that you need to go knobweed picking anymore now that we have _Prince Renarin_ helping us out financially.’

‘Oh. Well, _no_ , but ah…’

‘Calm down, Captain. Go have your romantic walk.’

‘Yeah, Captain! Kiss him!’ yelled Lopen.

‘We can look after ourselves, go have fun’ Drehy put in.

‘Oh. Thank you.’ Kaladin smiled and walked off, slipping his hand into Renarin’s. He turned to the prince: ‘Was that... Roshone’s voice you were putting on just then? When you talked to Matal?’

‘Perhaps.’ Renarin smiled faintly. Kaladin frowned.

‘Storms, you wanted to talk, didn’t you?’

‘Ah, yes. I… well I wanted to apologise’

‘To apologise? What in damnation for? Is this about ending our relationship because that was _years_ ago and- ‘

‘No, not _that_. I think we’ve established that neither of us have hurt feelings about _that_ I just…’ He took a deep breath. ‘Teft said I was helping you, but I’m not doing much for you at all’

‘You bought us bandages. I’d say that’s something. It means we don’t have to pick knobweed to sell for medical supplies, which means we can... well it makes things _easier_ ’ 

‘But I can’t do anything more than that! I can’t get you out of this situation, or stop any of you from dying! I should be able to but my father would never agree to me freeing you in his name somehow, even if that were possible. I’d even _buy_ you all if I could, as much as the thought disgusts me, but I’d need money and I’ve have to get it from father and he _hates_ me!’

‘You really think he hates you?’

‘Well… No, he doesn’t hate me. But he resents me for running away, and our relationship isn’t exactly good.’

Kaladin sighed. ‘Renarin, I am so sorry things are how they are for the both of us. And I know you’ve always struggled with wanting to be useful, and one comment from me isn’t going to change that, but I seriously don’t give a damn how much you can do to help us. I care that you _want_ to help us, and I am so, _so_ glad that I have someone as loyal and as loving as you in my life.'

‘But, I- ‘

‘Oh no, let me finish. The fact that you’re here, and that you’re here for _me_ , that is what I care about. And so you know, the medical supplies mean a lot. Anything you can give us means a lot. We’re slaves, for storm’s sake’.

‘You’re sure?’

‘So sure. Now come here, let me comfort you’. He pulled Renarin into his arms. Renarin made a disapproving noise and squirmed a little.

‘ _You’re_ the _slave_ , Kal. Surely _I_ should be comforting _you_?’

‘Comforting you _is_ comforting for me’

‘Then by that logic, comforting _you_ is comforting for _me_!’

‘Would you prefer just to kiss?’

‘Yes _please_.’

And so, they did. For quite some time.


	4. Spear Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaladin and Renarin have some time alone. Renarin shows off some skills.

'Renarin’, said Kaladin.

‘Yes?’

‘I have something to tell you.’

‘…Is it that you love me? Because I know that already’.

‘It’s _always_ that I love you. But also that… We’re planning to desert, me and bridge four. I’m training them now so we can fight any soldiers that come after us’.

‘you’re… leaving?’

‘ _We’re_ leaving, if you want.’

‘…When?’

‘As soon as we can’.

‘And I’m really allowed to come with you? What if your men don’t like that?’

‘To damnation with my men. I want you to come. Besides, I’m sure they’d be grateful if you helped to train them…’

‘Really? I can train them?!’

‘Of course. I have something I need to do so you could go now.’

‘Could I show them some katas? And that clever parry you do?! And that attack where-‘

‘I think its best to stick to the basics…’

‘Oh.’ Renarin’s eyes lost their sparkle.

‘…But I suppose knowing some more interesting moves would probably help them to feel self confident.’

‘ _Storms_ , thank you Kal!’ Renarin leant towards Kaladin, and kissed him very lightly on the cheek. ‘And I’ll definitely run away with you. It’s not like it’s the first time!’ And off he went.

Kaladin walked further into the chasms, humming to himself happily. It didn’t take him long to find a Parshendi corpse, and, pulling a knife from it’s belt, began to hack at the armour growing from its body. He was glad for his training as a surgeon, as otherwise he doubted he’d be able to tear at muscles and sinews like this without vomiting. 

Kaladin smiled faintly, remembering the early days training with the spearmen in Amaran’s army: The older soldiers had been shocked at the ease with which Kaladin had spilled blood. They’d been even more shocked by the ease at which Renarin, a slender, quiet, boy who’d never worked a day in his life, did the same. Renarin may not have had Kaladin’s natural talent for spear fighting but he had the determination of ten men. He was reckless, he was stubborn, and he was bitter. If anyone asked Renarin how he did what he did he would answer: ‘Because so many said I couldn’t’. But he _had_. He’d fought even when no one thought he could. And Kaladin _loved_ him for it.

Kaladin pulled the Parshendi’s armour clean off, and began to walk back to the other bridgemen. The first thing he noticed was Renarin, demonstrating something with a spear. His shirt was off and his golden freckles glinting in the sun. He was like a summer sky, Kaladin thought, with his clear blue eyes, and his bright blonde hairs standing out amongst his black ones like sunshine rays piercing clouds… And the emotion that burst into life in Kaladin’s chest when he looked at Renarin could only be described as warmth.

Renarin was performing a kata for the bridgemen, Kaladin realised. The movements he was making were somewhat exaggerated, but it was still skilfully done. Renarin’s mouth was agape and his eyes wide, comically so. He was putting on some kind of humorous routine, Kaladin assumed. And the bridgemen were _laughing_. Kaladin grinned.

‘Hey Ren!’ He called. Renarin turned to see him and dropped his spear. The bridge men fell silent. Kaladin stared at them in confusion for a moment and then: ‘Were you… doing an impression of me?’

‘…Possibly’

‘Do I really look like that when I’m training? As if I’m in a trance or something?’

‘Well, uh, the simile I used was ‘like he's having a religious experience’, but yes’

‘A religious experience?’ Kaladin chuckled.

‘Yes. You’re not Vorin, you’re… _Spearist_ ’.

‘Well Spearism says I have to kiss you at least twenty times a day.’

‘Well then you had better kiss me.’ Kaladin placed the Parshendi armour on the ground next to him. He pulled Renarin close and gently pressed their lips together, much to the apparent disgust of bridge four. He pulled away and gazed at Renarin, expecting him to look just as blissfully happy as Kaladin felt. Renarin, however, was looking downwards and chewing his bottom lip anxiously. Kaladin followed his line of sight.

There was a stark difference between the two of them, and it showed more than ever with their torsos pressed against each other. Kaladin’s ribs pushed through his skin while Renarin, although slim, was obviously getting enough to eat. Renarin had a couple of scars decorating his chest and stomach, but Kaladin’s body was covered in wounds he’d received as a slave. Renarin’s fingers slid over Kaladin’s back until they found the mess of scars that whips had beaten into him. He ran his hands over the scars and took a deep, trembling, breath.

‘Oh _Kal_ ’, he said. His eyes grew wet with sorrow. He took Kaladin’s face in his hands and kissed him very gently on his forehead, lips firm against the ruined skin of his brands. Kaladin let himself be held for a moment and then pulled away. Renarin chewed his lip, noticing Kal’s discomfort, and quickly changed the subject. ‘I’ve been told you’ve become close friends with a spren, is that true?’

‘Oh, right. I only didn’t introduce you before because she’s been acting shy all of a sudden. Says she wants to make a good first impression.’

‘A… shy spren? Can spren even _be_ shy?’

The sound of a throat being cleared came from behind Kaladin’s back.

‘I am ready to be introduced now, Kaladin’, said a sweet, feminine voice. ‘He knows about me so there is no point me staying hidden.’

‘Right, so, this is Syl’, said Kal.

‘…I am ready to be introduced more formally and respectfully’, said the voice.

‘This’, announced Kaladin, rolling his eyes while trying to hold back a smile, ‘Is the beautiful Sylphrena, who has granted me the powers of glowing and sticking Herdazians to walls’.

Renarin clapped loudly. ‘Lovely to meet you, Sylphrena, and thank you for granting Kaladin such impressive powers. And You needn’t worry about making a good impression, we’re both meeting each other for the first time. If anything I should be shy to meet such a lovely spren as yourself.’

‘Oh you’re very nice! See Kaladin, _that’s_ how you should treat me. Your Prince is ever so polite I can see why you like him so much!’ Syl giggled happily, and danced in the air around Renarin for a little while. He smiled and blushed.

‘I should, uh, probably be getting home now’, Renarin said. ‘But first, Kal, what’s your favourite glyph?’

‘My favourite glyph? Aesthetically speaking or…’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Uh. I like ‘vertebrae’’

‘…Maybe something prettier? Like ‘happiness’ or ‘peace’?

‘I like ‘hope’

‘ _Thank_ you’

‘I love you’.

‘I love you too’.

And to the bridgemen Renarin said: ‘I’m looking forward to deserting with you all!’


	5. The Blackthorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renarin faces some memories, and tells a lie.

Creeping back to his chamber, Renarin was discovered by his brother.

‘Not so fast, Ren, I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks’, Adolin said.

‘Probably because you spend all your time with girls’

‘That’s true’. Adolin snorted. ‘I, ah, saw someone recently that looked like that boy of yours.’

‘You saw Kal?’

‘Ah yes, that’s his name. There was a damsel in distress that needed saving and so I sent a bridgeman to apologise to Reral for missing my meeting with him. Don’t think he ever took the message, mind’. He looked at Renarin strangely. ‘It’s unlikely it was actually him, you know that right?’

‘Oh. Yes.’

‘Thank the Heralds. I only mentioned it because, well, I haven’t thought about him in years. But I guess you must think about him a lot.’

‘I do’, Renarin whispered.

‘Huh. Father! Renarin’s home’, Adolin said. He turned to Renarin. ‘He wanted to speak to you’. Renarin groaned internally. Dalinar came walking up the stairs, face set firmly into the expression he used when issuing commands to the soldiers under his control.

‘Hello, son’, he said formally.

‘Hello, Father’, said Renarin, just as formally. Adolin snuck away.

‘Where have you been today, Renarin? I couldn’t find you anywhere.’

‘I’ve been walking around the war camp. Thinking’.

‘Hmm. Well have you, ah, thought more about my suggestion?’

‘That I join the Ardentia?’

‘Yes.’

‘A little’

‘No decision, then? I think you’d be happy there. Safer. You know I worry about you’. Dalinar’s brow furrowed and he sighed. ‘You can’t keep drawing this out forever, you know. You have to decide at some point. If you don’t become an ardent then I really don’t know what I’ll do with you, son’.

‘So joining the Ardentia is the right choice, then? The only one I’m allowed to make?’

‘Well, you already know my thoughts on the matter’. Dalinar sighed again. ‘Frankly I don’t know what other options you have. I’d send you back to Kholinar if I thought you’d stay out of trouble. Clearly you can’t fight. You disappear for a couple of years and when I get you back you’re half dead..’

Renarin flinched. The memory of that day haunted him. The last thing he saw before blacking out had been his own fingers, wrapped around the spearhead stuck in his stomach. His blood had pooled around him and when he woke up it had turned to a dark red crust covering his clothes.

_Slipping back into awareness he heard someone's voice call his name. They used his full name. He’d gone just by ‘Ren’ for years, concealed his true identity as a Kholin. How in the halls had they figured it out? His hair was distinctive, yes, but he’d dyed that recently… hadn’t he? He ran his fingers through his roots. The voice called his name again and suddenly he recognised it. But why would Adolin be here? How could his brother have found him?_

_Slowly he tilted his throbbing head forward, and was met by his brother’s distraught face._

_‘Renarin?’, Adolin whispered. ‘Is that really you?’ Renarin struggled to reply. He drifted off back into the blackness of heavy, sick slumber._

_With a jolt he awoke again, remembered his wound. He pulled up his shirt and propped himself up against the pillows of a bed he didn’t know, leaning slightly to see his belly. There was a line of stitches -nowhere near as neat as Kal’s, he thought- and scar tissue that had formed sooner than it should. He’d healed alarmingly quickly. That said, how had had he been out for? Long enough for his stab wound to heal? He didn’t know._

_The next time he woke his father was with him. ‘You’re finally awake, I see’, said Dalinar, emotion in his voice. ‘Where have you been all this time, son?’_

_‘I… with Kal…’. He sat up with a sharp intake of breath. ‘I have to go back, Father… I have to find him I have to fight I have to!’_

_‘If it is up to me, son’, said Dalinar sternly, ‘You will never see that boy, or the battlefield, again’._

‘Storms but we’re lucky Adolin had business in that part of the country when he did. Clearly the Almighty wanted you alive or you surely wouldn’t be now. You were in over you head, weren’t you. All in the past now though, eh son?’ Dalinar chuckled to himself nervously, waiting for Renarin to agree.

Renarin fumed with pent up rage. How dare his father dismiss the best years of his life as ‘all in the past’? How could his father treat him like a weakling, like a child, when he’d already done so much to prove himself? Why did he see Adolin as the stronger, braver son when Renarin had fought just as he had, but without the horse, the Blade, the Plate? When Renarin had carved out a life for himself as his own person, rather than the son of the blackthorn, living off his own merit rather than his father’s? He took a deep breath, and pushed his feelings down.

‘Yes Father’, he said, ‘all in the past’. 

‘But you seem sad about that, somehow?’

‘I…’ Renarin breathed in a deep breath to calm himself, and prepared to lie to his father. ‘It’s just that I’ve been thinking on what you’ve said recently, while I go on my walks. About the Ardentia. And I know in my heart it’s the right decision but… It wasn’t an easy decision to make’

‘I can imagine. I’m sorry things have to be this way’.

Renarin held back to urge to scream that things didn’t have to be this way, and instead said simply: ‘I’m going to miss you, Father’. And it was true. He would.

‘And I you’, replied Dalinar gruffly.

‘Father, before I go, would you do something for me?’

‘Anything’.

‘Could I come on a Plateau run with you? Just one?’

‘I’m not sure how safe that would be…’

‘Aren’t you going on a joint assault with Sadeas soon? Surely his bridges mean we’ll be able to make a quick retreat in the case of danger’  
‘I suppose…’

‘Please, Father! I’ll stay at the back, out of the way of the fighting. And I’ll ride next to the bridgecrews on the way home, so I’ll be the first back to the war camps. It would be nice, father, to see you in battle.’

‘Well, I suppose nothing can go wrong if we take precautions’. Dalinar smiled benevolently. ‘You can come on the plateau run.’

‘ _Thank_ you, Father’. Renarin hugged Dalinar tight, and tried not to think too long on his imminent betrayal.


	6. Armour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renarin is scared.

Renarin snuck out early to give Kaladin a gift.

‘Hold out your hands’, he said, and Kaladin did.

It was a prayer, written beautifully, more complex than the ones Kaladin’s mother had preferred. The glyphs were for wind, hope, protection, and, -Kaladin’s heart missed a beat- love.

‘I wrote it myself’, Renarin said quietly. ‘I’m not sure how you feel about... about those things, but I thought you’d appreciate the gesture’.

‘Thank you. I mean it’.

Over the next nine days, Renarin visited bridge four as often as he could with bandages, food, and medical equipment. Every time they went on a bridge run another of them was wearing armour like Kaladin’s, made from Parshendi corpses. Every time he saw Kaladin’s men train they were stronger, and working better together. Every time he saw Kaladin, Renarin’s stomach churned with guilt. What would Kal do if he found out that Renarin had failed? That he’d been hurt so badly? That he had lasted mere months on his own? That he was useless without Kal to protect him. 

Every night as he lay in bed, Renarin’s mind bubbled over with thoughts of what could go wrong. If Renarin’s lack of skill jeopardised bridge four’s escape, then Renarin would be in deep trouble, but for bridge four their freedom hinged on the plan’s success. 

‘I saw your father recently’, said Kal, the night before they were due to leave.

‘Ah yes, I think he mentioned that’

‘he did?’

‘Yes. He told me he’d seen a bridgeman wearing armour who’d distracted the Parshendi’. Renarin grinned. ‘He said a man of your talent was wasted in the bridge crews’.

‘Did he recognise me?’

‘No. He had no reason to, of course. Never paid you any attention even back in Hearthstone.’

‘I suppose not’ 

Their conversation ended then, with a kiss good night and a wish for luck the next day. The next time they met would be on the shattered plains. 

And so the next day Renarin set out with his father and brother, a small saddlebag of possessions hung from his horse. When his father commented on his clothes, plain enough for him to pass for someone of much lower status, he replied that he was merely preparing for the simple life of an ardent. He felt sick. He hadn’t felt this scared since he was fourteen, preparing to confess to Kal… 

_He was fourteen again, sitting by the river with Kal. It was not long after the weepings, and Renarin was relieved to see Kal happy again. The sun shone down on them. Tien had run right up to the edge of the water, and so Renarin had the privacy with Kal he had been waiting for all day. Finally he could tell Kal how he felt! Renarin’s pulse was fast suddenly, and his skin grew warm. He turned to Kal, heart in his mouth, lips dry, and said-_

No, this was worse than that had ever been. Back then he’d been scared, yes, but only of rejection. Now Kal’s life was at stake. This was far more like when he had run away. Of _course_ it was. Funny how history repeated itself as soon as Kal had come back to him. Only this time Kal was desperate to leave the army. Renarin examined the guilt he felt when he looked at his father, the panic when Dalinar spoke to him. There was no reason for his father to suspect his plan, and yet he worried all the same. Yes, this was just like the last time.

_It was nearly dawn, and Renarin was awake. He’d hardly slept. His pulse, of course, was fast. His skin was cold and shone with sweat. The moonlight illuminated his mirror as he walked past and he was confronted with a vision of himself; hair black as night and clothes scruffy. Scared. He eased open his windows and crept out onto the balcony. Renarin had snuck out before to see Kal, and Kal had snuck in, so he was very familiar with this route. He shivered in the cold, and for a moment regretted that things had to be this way. Surely his father would help? But no, Dalinar’s only comment that evening had been that he’d give Renarin room to grieve. Renarin climbed down, lowering himself onto the ground, and walked away from the house._

Even then, Renarin realised, he had felt somewhat excited. Running away had not just been to protect Kal and Tien, but for the chance to fight, and serve in the army! He ached for the life he’d had there. If he could, he’d re-join immediately, but right now the only thing that mattered was Kal and his men. They had to be safe, and Renarin had to be with them. 

He had to do everything he could to help them.


	7. Stormblessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to fall into place. Kaladin feels hopeful.

Kaladin wrapped yet another wound. He wished he’d had better equipment to heal Skar’s foot with, but at least his friend was alive. Outwardly he was calm, yet inside… Inside, Kaladin was stressed and tired. Very tired. If it weren’t for his men he, he realised, he would probably have given up by now. And yet he kept going. They all did.

Kaladin looked around him at bridge four. They were a team now, and a strong one. Even the men who’d disliked him at first and been hard to persuade were now loyal. They worked hard. And he hadn’t heard a bad word about Renarin from them since they’d originally met him, not even from Moash. He smiled a weak smile. Kaladin felt oddly calm now. Still tired, but calm. As if he’d accepted his fate. He’d likely have to fight, which would be challenging in his exhausted state, but that didn’t worry him at all. He’d be fighting to _protect_ people, and wasn’t that when he fought his hardest and his best? Wasn’t passion and emotion what he’d always used to fight? And now he had Renarin and bridge four to fight for. He’d do it for them. 

Peering into the distance, Kaladin noticed a man on a horse, quickly approaching bridge four. Renarin. The prince rode to the back of the bridge crews, where Kaladin and his men had already positioned themselves, ready to purposefully fall behind. Renarin dismounted his horse, and grinned nervously. ‘I suppose we’re doing this, then’, he said. Bridge four cheered.

While the other members of the bridge crew began to lift their bridge onto their aching backs, Renarin helped Kal attend to Teft’s wounded arm.

‘See, look at that everyone’, said Kaladin. ‘There’s no way in the halls we won’t be safe with Renarin looking after us!’

Renarin’s stomach turned. It was a silly comment, he knew that. But Kal being so happy, making jokes, being hopeful… That made his secret feel all the worse. Telling Kal how he’d failed could destroy that hope. Because Renarin was not the all-powerful protector that Kal was painting him as. Far from it. And yet, wouldn’t it be better he knew now? Before Renarin had the chance to let him down?

‘Kal?’ he said, voice trembling.

‘Yes?’

‘There’s something you should know.’

‘There is?’ Kaladin turned away from the bridge and walked over to Renarin. 

‘Yes. I…’ Renarin took a deep breath. ‘I got stabbed.’

‘you… what?’  
‘Not long after we were separated, back in Amaran’s army. It was just a border skirmish, nothing I hadn’t done before. I got separated from my squad and someone stabbed me. I, uh, almost died. And I was found by Adolin and he saved me, which is the only reason I didn’t. So no, I can’t protect your men, Kal. I can’t even protect myself. I’m not the hero you think I am’.

‘You almost died.’

‘Yes.’

‘Storms…’ Kaladin took a deep breath and ran a shaky hand through his hair. ‘Storms, Ren, but I’m glad you didn’t’

‘That’s all you have to say?’

‘What else would I have said! What did you think, I’d be angry? You… you did think that, didn’t you’?

‘I was worried you’d feel let down’

‘I… You… Renarin you’re amazing’

‘But I-‘

‘No, let me finish. Renarin, you’re amazing. Everyone said you couldn’t fight, and you did. Aged fourteen no less, and with hardly any proper training. And you were amazing.’ Kaladin took Renarin’s hands in his own. ‘So what if you got hurt? You lived. You kept going. Because you’re strong. And then you found me, and you saved me. And I know you’re going to keep saving me, because you’re you and you’re amazing. So what if you almost died? You look up to me, and I’ve almost died… lots of times.’

‘You really don’t mind?’

‘I mind that you’re alive, and I mind that you’re here with me. And I’d love to stand here with you and tell you for as long as it takes for you to accept it that you’re incredible, but unfortunately we have a bridge to carry and an army to escape from’.

‘I’d love to do that later.’

Kaladin snorted. ‘When we’re safely away from the shattered plains, I’ll compliment you every hour of every day’

‘Ahem?’ said the tiny blue spren at Kaladin’s side.

‘When we’re safe, I will compliment both you and Renarin every hour of every day, Sylphrena’.


	8. Windrunner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaladin Stormblessed becomes something more

It was late in the day. It was a strange, quiet evening, but not an unpleasant one. It was warm. It seemed hopeful. Perhaps the hope of the bridgemen made it that way. Perhaps the softness of the sky and the beauty of the sun made the bridgemen _feel_ hope. Did it matter?

(Who cared whether a windspren caused the wind, or the wind called the windspren to itself?)

Eventually, the bridgecrews were called back. Eventually, bridge four were forgotten. Eventually, they became free. It did not take long, though for Kaladin Stormblessed’s men it felt as long as the time between desolations. And when they finally saw that they could leave… It felt like a weight have been lifted from their shoulders. Not the weight of a bridge, for they had made that weight their own, but the weight of hatred, persecution, humiliation. 

(Who cared whether an honourspren made men righteous and good, or a good and righteous man was the honourspren’s reason to be?)

Every one of those men had a different dream for freedom. Every one of them ached for something different, something now within reach. Some dreamed of peace, some of adventure, some of solitude, some of companionship, some of love. Every dream was important, and every man there who had a dream (which was every one of them), treasured it because it was all he had. 

(Kaladin Stormblessed would come to care.)

The bridgemen saw something that day that turned their stomachs and enraged their hearts. They saw a treachery so immense, so cruel, so vile, that all of Alethkar would shudder in its aftermath. They saw the Highprince Sadeas retreat with his troops and, like the snivelling coward he was, leave Dalinar Kholin to die. The bridgemen tried to ignore their need to help, and they could not. They were, after all, Kaladin Stormblessed’s men. They looked to their Captain, and they looked to the Blackthorn’s son, and every one of them saw what they had to do. Every one of them pushed their dreams to the back of their minds, saving them for another time.

(Kaladin Stormblessed was a good and righteous man, but he was also becoming something more than that.)

Kaladin’s men picked up their bridge again. They bore its weight of their own will. They bore it not for a cruel Highprince who dismissed their deaths like afterthoughts, nor for the fear they would otherwise be punished. Kaladin’s men bore the weight of _their_ bridge for _their_ cause. They would save Dalinar Kholin because they knew it was right.

(Kaladin Stormblessed was becoming a Knight Radiant.)

And so, the bridgemen fought. They fought hard, and they fought brave, and for fighters as new as they were, they fought well. But in amongst them were the Captain and his prince. And _they_ fought like forces of nature. Kaladin, of course, was like the wind, graceful and destructive at the same time. He was controlled chaos. His strength was somehow beautiful. He ran and spun and parried and hit in one motion, like a storm with its curling wind and pounding hailstones. Kaladin glowed. Kaladin was _powerful_.

And Renarin? He was indestructible. His feet were firmer on the ground than any rooted plant. Like the trees and greenery of Roshar his strength came from necessity; the flowers here had armoured leaves. He had learnt to defend, because others would attack. He had learnt to protect himself, because others wouldn’t do it for him. Every enemy he defeated, every comrade he defended, every breath he took was an act of defiance. Ancient trees, that have seen much and survived more, were as much akin to him as wind was to Kaladin. He was precise, practised, and passionate.

(Kaladin was surprised, of course, when he learned Sylphrena’s secret. That she was not a windspren after all but an honourspren, something much more impressive.)

Together, they were unstoppable. They’d learnt to fight together hadn’t they? in the beginning? They had, and every battle they’d fought they had been side by side. They each knew each other’s every move like their own. They knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses, they knew when the other needed help and what help to give. They could feel it in the air when the other was about to make history. It was a feeling somewhere between anticipation and excitement, and it was the feeling Renarin Kholin felt as Kaladin used stormlight to pull a hundred arrows into a single shield.

(No one was really surprised when Kaladin spoke the words ‘I will protect those who cannot protect themselves’; the Second Ideal of the Windrunners.)

After the battle, Kaladin and his men were tired but satisfied. For many, if not all, of them, this was the first time they had fought for something they themselves believed in. It was empowering. They were sweaty and grimy, but happy. Three of them were dead, and sorrow hung in the air among the men’s other emotions. Most of them, however, were alive, and that was glorious.

They were approached by Dalinar Kholin. By the Blackthorn. By the king’s uncle. The dead king’s brother. He scanned their faces quickly, and for a minute it seemed he was about to speak. Instead he ran to Renarin, and hugged him briefly. 

‘I will forgive your rebellion in joining the fight, son’, he said, ‘but only because I am so glad you’re safe.’

Renarin grit his teeth, and stayed by his father’s side. He would not be escaping any longer, it seemed.

Dalinar turned to Kaladin. ‘You fought well, boy’, he told him. And then he looked closer, past Kaladin’s brands, scars, malnourished body. In his head, he pictured him five years younger. ‘Kal?’, he asked. ‘From Hearthstone?’

Kaladin nodded. What else could he have done? Dalinar glanced at Renarin and then back to Kaladin quickly. Behind them, Adolin gawped. Dalinar took a deep breath. ‘Right let me get some things clear’, he said. ‘First of all, why did Sadeas only send you and your men back to help me?’

‘He uh, he didn’t. He didn’t Sir’

‘Right. And no need to call me ‘Sir’, you’ve kissed my son’. His words were friendly but his tone was not. ‘Now then, why did you come to help me?’

‘Because it was the right thing to do’

‘And why is Renarin with you?’

There was silence. Kaladin looked to Renarin for help. Renarin nodded. ‘Because’, said Kaladin, staring Dalinar down. ‘Because we were going to desert. And Renarin was going to come with us’.


	9. Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renarin can no longer ignore the anger he's felt for years.

Dalinar’s eyes were wide with emotion. Any father’s would be, on learning that their son had been planning on running from them for a second time. Could it really be true? He’d thought things had been getting better with Renarin, not worse. 

‘Is this true, son?’, he asked, gruff voice shaking.

‘Yes’, said Renarin.

‘Why? I thought we agreed, the ardentia is the best place for you!’

‘No, the ardentia is what you wanted for me. I thought you’d be happy if I left to be honest… You seem so intent on getting me out of your sight’. Renarin spat the words.

‘You really think I hate you that much?’

‘Maybe. I don’t know’.

‘Do you hate me?’

No, no he didn’t. He loved his father. How could Dalinar ever think he hated him?

‘Yes’, he said.

Dalinar’s brow furrowed, and his fists clenched. ‘Storms’, he whispered, ‘after everything I’ve done for you? Really?’

‘After you denied me the chance to fight for years? After you forbade me to look for Kaladin? After you ignored everything I’ve said and done, and made assumptions about me that were completely untrue?’. Renarin’s voice was strained from screaming.

‘What kind of assumptions do you think I’ve made?’

‘That I could never fight! Because I did! And I was good at it!’

‘You. Nearly. Died. Do you really blame me for trying to protect you?!’

‘Yes! I do! Because you made me out to be some kind of weakling, you made me think I wasn’t good enough. And I was good enough! I may not have been you, I may not have been Adolin, but I was good enough! And I did what I did with no blade, no plate, no years of training from the best of the best. I did everything by myself and I got none of the help that you gave Adolin!’ Dalinar’s older son stepped forward, seemingly about to say something.

‘Stay out of this, Adolin’, Dalinar said gruffly.

‘I don’t blame you’, Renarin told his brother. ‘I blame _him_ ’. He stepped forward, closer to his father, and clenched his fists around his spear. Instinctively, Dalinar summoned his shardblade, anger making his heartbeat fast and his blade appear quickly. Renarin recoiled in shock. And then he grit his teeth. He charged at his father, spear poised ready to attack. Dalinar growled, and ran at Renarin. Within barely five seconds, his blade had sliced through Renarin’s spear.

Renarin dropped the half of his spear without a point, and for a second stood still to catch his breath. Dalinar released his blade, and angrily stripped out of his battered armour. As murderous as he seemed, he didn’t want to seriously harm his son. He was, however, still in the mood to fight. He produced a small knife.

‘Well then?’, he roared at his son. ‘Don’t you want to show me how well you can fight? You claim I’ve underestimated you: prove it!’  
And so they ran at each other again. Their weapons clashed. They screamed. Bridge four looked on, confused and anxious. When they looked to Kal he shook his head, but kept his eyes on Renarin, ready to rush in if things got uglier than they were already. He hoped they would talk properly later, of course, but for now at least they were communicating.

And they _were_ communicating: Renarin made an attack and it meant ‘why didn’t you believe in me?’. Dalinar parried and formed an attack of his own and it meant ‘I love you, why can’t you see that’. Renarin sought out his father’s weak spots, pointing the tip of his spear into them, and it meant ‘All I ever wanted was your support, your approval, your trust’. Dalinar hit Renarin, throwing it back and it meant ‘what did I do wrong? Everything I’ve done has come from wanting you to be happy’. 

And the fight continued. Soon, they resorted to dirty tactics, throwing their weapons aside so they could attack each other as hard as possible and not have to worry about leaving any permanent damage. They punched. They pulled hair. They wrestled each other on the ground and the entire time they cried. 

Renarin was determined. He _had_ to win this fight. He had to show his father that he was strong, that he deserved to be on the battlefield. He had to _prove_ himself. And yet, how could he? He was up against a man with years of training and a natural flair for fighting. Dalinar Kholin was something else. Renarin just had anger and spite. Well then. Anger and spite had got him so far and he supposed if he had nothing else… 

Renarin ran at his father again. There was no way he’d beat him but storm it, he had to try. He attacked viciously, throwing all the energy and determination he had left into this one last attempt. He failed. Dalinar threw his son’s body to the ground, and pinned him down with his foot until he stopped resisting. Then he stepped back, and held out a hand. Renarin shook his head, and picked himself up, defeated. He wasn’t crying anymore, but tear stains ran down his face and the light had gone from his eyes.

‘You fought well, Renarin’, said Dalinar softly. ‘I’m proud of you’.

‘I _lost_ ’

‘Well that’s to be expected’, Dalinar told him, laughing. ‘I doubt your brother could beat me easily in a rough fight like that, and he’s got an awful lot more experience than you. With a little training, however…’

Renarin’s brow furrowed in confusion. ‘You don’t seem angry’ he said.

‘I’m not’

‘But I attacked you! And I was going to run away!’

‘And I think I understand why now. I did underestimate you. It seems we need to talk some things over but… well at least now I understand that I’ve done some things wrong. I’m sorry I’ve made mistakes’. Dalinar opened his arms tentatively, obviously hoping for a hug. Renarin flung himself at him. 

‘I don’t hate you’, Renarin said, voice muffled by his father’s shoulder.

‘I know’, Dalinar replied. He gestured for Kaladin to join their embrace, and then eventually Adolin and the rest of bridge four as well. ‘Now then’, he grunted, ‘what are we going to do about Sadeas?’


	10. Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dalinar makes amends, Renarin makes jokes.

Back in Sadeas’ warcamp, Navani was fuming with righteous anger. She sobbed onto Dalinar’s shoulder with her fists still clenched in rage, specks of paint on her hand matching the ones on the floor. Renarin frowned at them.

‘Father, I don’t mean to pry’, he said, ‘but are you two courting?’

Dalinar blushed, but tried to maintain a stoic expression. ‘As it happens, yes, we are. Not that you have any right to complain, seeing as it looks like you’re courting a slave’

‘He may be a slave but he was never married to Adolin’. Both Kaladin and Adolin grimaced at this thought.

‘I think’, Adolin announced, ‘that I remember you saying we had something to do, Father’

‘Right you are’, said Dalinar gruffly, still red. He turned to Navani. ‘I have learned two things today. The first is that Sadeas is a filthy traitor who would see me dead to further his own agenda. The second’- Dalinar’s voice grew warm with love - ‘is that my youngest son is quite the spearman. And I think he could be quite the sword fighter with some proper training, but first we need to secure the freedom of the brave men who fought for me’

Renarin nudged Kaladin. ‘that’s you Kal’, he whispered to him.

Dalinar strolled up to Sadeas, and from where they stood Renarin and the bridgemen could hear only strained words in hushed tones. The two Highprinces stood only inches apart, and seemed to be debating something. Suddenly Dalinar raised his voice: 

‘Storm it!’, he yelled. ‘sixty emerald broams each, how’s that?’ 

Everyone in earshot gasped. Kaladin was in shock. It wasn’t as if Dalinar couldn’t afford it but that was a lot of money. And he had learned not to expect such noble acts from a man that rich. Renarin squeezed his hand tight, and they stood not daring even to breathe.  
Sadeas laughed. ‘Not a chance’, he said. And so Dalinar growled, and his shardblade formed suddenly. For a few seconds there was panic, and then Dalinar threw his blade to the ground. 

‘There. My blade for your bridgemen’. Sadeas peered at the blade, as if trying to figure out if this was some kind of trap. 

‘Storms, but you’re a fool Dalinar’, he muttered softly. He picked up the blade and marvelled at it. ‘Have the men, I don’t need them’.

The bridgemen cheered, weary arms thrown in the air with joy. Kaladin grabbed Renarin and pulled him tight, teary eyes pressed against Renarin’s hair. He flushed red with embarrassment at the idea of his men seeing him cry, but Renarin could know. His desire to appear strong for his men became a weight sometimes, but he was never afraid to share that weight with the man he loved. Renarin, softly rubbing Kaladin’s back, cried tears of his own. Dalinar smiled at him.

‘So does this get me back in your good books, son?’

‘…No. Thank you, this means an incredible amount, but it doesn’t fix everything.’

‘You’re right of course’ Dalinar replied, shoulders sagging. ‘I’m a big enough man to admit I’ve done you wrong, and I look setting things right’  
Renarin nodded impatiently and then went back to trying to entirely eradicate the space between his body and Kaladin’s. Kaladin briefly lifted his face from Renarin’s shoulder. 

‘Thank you, sir,’, he said. ‘I doubt many people would have done what you just did. The lives of men like us are… not considered to be worth much.’

‘Well. As a man we both knew back in Hearthstone used to say; a life is priceless’. Dalinar looked at Kaladin, and furrowed his brow. ‘And enough with this ‘sir’ nonsense’ 

‘Right. Sorry, uh, Brightlord’

‘Brightness?’. Dalinar snorted with laughter. ‘No. You’re courting my son you can call me Father’. He turned to face Kaladin’s men: ‘I suppose a good number of you will stay fighting for me then’, he said, ‘although of course you’re free to leave’. There were hums of agreement and a few shouts of confirmation. ‘Good’, Dalinar continued. ‘Your _men_ call you ‘Captain’, don’t they son?’

‘Huh, oh. Yes’

‘Well consider that your official rank. Anything above that and we’d have trouble, but a darkeyed Captain isn’t completely unheard of.’

‘Well. Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it’. Dalinar nodded to the bridgemen. ‘There’s someone I need to talk to now, but this won’t be the last you see of me’. And so he strolled off. 

Adolin raised an eyebrow at Kaladin, a smile creeping onto his face. ‘Storms, Ren, you didn’t tell me you were courting a younger version of our father’

‘What in the halls do you mean by that! Kaladin is nothing like Father’

‘…Noble, looks tired all the time, seems like he’d be confused if you tried to flirt with him…’

‘At least I won’t remember my relationship with him by recalling which shirt I wore the day we were together!'

Adolin was silent for a tense moment and then he burst out laughing, slapping his thigh and tipping his head back with mirth.

‘At least I can kiss people without having to take my spectacles off’

‘I hardly need those anymore!’

‘I highly doubt that, Renarin. You’re almost blind last I checked. Not exactly very macho’

Renarin frowned, and pulled his hands into fists, adopting a purposefully ridiculous fighting stance. ‘perhaps you should come and see just how macho I am, brother’

‘I know you’re joking’, said Adolin, smiling, ‘but I am looking forward to sparring with you. It’ll be fun to train with my little brother’.

The smile on Renarin’s face, Kaladin thought, shone brighter than the sun.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to an end.

Kaladin slipped into Renarin’s chamber later that evening, and was pulled immediately into a warm embrace. Renarin kissed him on the mouth. For a while they stood close together in the gloom, foreheads pressed together and both sets of eyes gazing at their entwined fingers. Renarin ran a hand through Kaladin’s hair, sighed, and pulled away from him. He picked up a folded garment and gave it to Kaladin.

‘It’s my father’s coat. He wanted you to have it. Says everyone who wears his colours is a member of his family’

‘That’s uh, a rather unsubtle hint. Does he know how difficult it would be to make anyone see a marriage between us as legitimate?’

‘I think that’s maybe why he said that. Also he respects you a great deal.’

‘Are things between the two of you looking like they might get better?’

‘I think so’. Renarin smiled gently. ‘Now, you look like you have something to say?’

‘I uh, I do. Can we sit down?’

They curled up on Renarin’s bed, blankets and pillows shutting them off from the world. Renarin stroked Kaladin’s hair with one hand and held him tight with the other. Kaladin sighed. ‘Let me start at the beginning’, he said. ‘I was a Captain before, in Amaran’s army.’

He told Renarin everything and he cried and Renarin cried and he listened. They laughed together and squeezed each other’s hands and all the while Renarin listened like only he could. Kaladin saw fury in his eyes when he heard how Kaladin had been wronged, and deep sorrow at how he had been hurt. After a while they talked of Hearthstone, and so Renarin wept not only for Kaladin but for Tien. They mourned him together. After their stories of Tien had strayed entirely into fond memories, Renarin reached into a draw and produced a tiny carved axehound. 

‘Father kept most of the things I left in Hearthstone. So I got this back. You should have something he made’. 

Kaladin wept not for sorrow or for joy but for something in between. 

Storms but it felt good to have someone know. Storms but it felt good to have someone so pained by his struggles and so willing to fight for him. Storms but Renarin was incredible. Kaladin kissed him again, and let Renarin wipe away his tears. Kaladin rested his head on Renarin’s lap. ‘There’s something I have to tell you as well’, Renarin said.

And Kaladin noticed suddenly, the shimmering light that moved over the creases in Renarin’s shirt, and the way it played like Syl did in the wind. He noticed Renarin’s spectacles, off his face and collecting dust on a shelf. He noticed the thoughtful look in Renarin’s eye, and recognised the feeling behind it, the realisation that from now on your actions would hold importance, and that you might be a part of something bigger. And he knew. And he smiled.

It made complete sense, after all, that Renarin would be the reason he was no longer alone.


End file.
